


But then silence follows

by Itherael



Series: Shall we Dance? [6]
Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gabriela Mistral's poetry used in a way it shouldn't be used but who cares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 16:39:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14382720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itherael/pseuds/Itherael
Summary: She knew it would eventually happen, but that doesn't mean she would be less angered (emptier)Odin escaped Yggdrassil's roots, and Völva is alone once again.





	But then silence follows

**Author's Note:**

> Ridiculously, somehow this [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eZsVN0inVoc) came next on my playlist while I was finishing editing this work. Needless to say, working on Eto's lines while having Versequence's sweet voice was... weird.

The night he escapes, Eto barely controls herself from killing anyone in sight.

How did he managed to run away? Was the cage she built for him too weak? (The golden cage was only rusted iron, weakened enough for him to break it)

_She wants to rip their limbs, make them scream_.

Was her grip on him not as strong as she thought? (No, there was never strength in that grip)

_Show no mercy, like you did before with him._

Did she gave him too much freedom? (Yes she did, and now she had to pay for her actions)

_Laugh, make them beg for death. Something that he never did, something that angered you to no end._

The Queen doesn’t cry (she never does), but she feels so  _tired_. She wants to kill, she wants to destroy.

But the one she wants to rip apart limb by limb is no longer there.

She knew it would happen. Today, tomorrow, next week, an eternity later. That doesn’t mean she’s less angered or frustrated (more... empty).

Instead, she locks herself in the room they danced for hours. The room that still has his blood decorating the floor, the room that still holds evidence of their countless fights. The place were his cage was built, deep into the Tree’s roots.

( _Mistral’s_ To see him Again _echoes, over an over._

 

> _Never, never again?_  
>  Not on nights filled with quivering stars,  
>  or during dawn's maiden brightness  
>  or afternoons of sacrifice?

_Would those days ever come back? No, what’s lost never comes back, you should have learned that lesson long ago, little one._

 

> _Or at the edge of a pale path_  
>  that encircles the farmlands,  
>  or upon the rim of a trembling fountain,  
>  whitened by a shimmering moon?  
>    
>  Or beneath the forest's  
>  luxuriant, raveled tresses  
>  where, calling his name,  
>  I was overtaken by the night?  
>  Not in the grotto that returns  
>  the echo of my cry?

_But your cries have never been heard, remember? And they will remain that way, you know that better than anyone else._

 

> _Oh no. To see him again --_  
>  it would not matter where --  
>  in heaven's deadwater  
>  or inside the boiling vortex,  
>  under serene moons or in bloodless fright!  
>    
>  To be with him...  
>  every springtime and winter,  
>  united in one anguished knot  
>  around his bloody neck! 

_Would there be a next time? ~~Yes, there will be a next time. Drag him back and never let him leave again~~. You don’t know the answer to that, those wishes of yours often remain empty, soon to be forgotten, never fulfilled)_

Scattered books are lying around, and she remembers, remembers how he used to lie in the floor, waiting for his wounds to heal with a random book in the remnants of his hands, reading it out loud until he fell asleep.

Sometimes, her own books were read by him. Her books weren’t supposed to sound so warm, so comforting, but his voice managed to give them a new light. A light she didn’t want to delve into,  _a light she denied herself so long ago brought back by him_.

But there’s one, one time when he read something that angered her more than anything. How the bastard seemed to laugh at her face because that damned poem was so  _him_. How much she wanted to kill him afterwards, and their dance of the next day left him closer to Death’s doors than ever before.

Invictus seemed to be written for him, after all. That unbroken bastard… she hates him, but admires him for it.

And she stands, alone, waiting, _hoping_ , that this is only a dream and that he’ll be there, waiting for a new dance and having another chance of breaking him. It’s a hollow wish, and she knows it.

Ayato finds her hours later, and she’s surprised with the boy’s bravery. She knows that he was involved in his escape, but she’s too tired to punish him… maybe he made their little game more interesting.

“Ayato-kun”, she doesn’t give him the chance to speak, “if you find Floppy, kill him”, her voice is emotionless, in contrast of the raging thoughts, the need to kill the ones that helped him.

Maybe letting little Hina-chan get close to him was her worst mistake.

Ayato hesitates, but nods after a few seconds. She’s not stupid, she knows that he’s not going to follow that order.

“And prepare, we’re going to hunt some doves”

And she closes the door, leaving behind the memories of countless dances, silently hoping for another waltz.

He might believe himself the captain of his soul, but she's the one that holds his life. And no matter how long it takes, how many dances have yet to come for it, she’s going to conquer him.

And Amon Koutarou was going to pay for leaving her behind.

 

_(Alone, alone once again, little one. Back to the start, empty handed, ~~with a broken heart~~_ _)_

**Author's Note:**

> [iterael](iterael.tumblr.com) @ tumblr.
> 
>  
> 
> Upcoming next, _Interlude: Vellichor_ and a tiny smutty shot  >:3, then we go back to the usual angst like always.


End file.
